This time it simply reproduces my bedroom; but colour must be abundant in this part, its simplification adding a rank of grandee to the style applied to the objects, getting to suggest a certain rest or dream.…
A melody is heard, played upon a flute. It is small and fine, telling of grass and trees and the horizon. The curtain rises. Before us is the Salesman’s house. We are aware of towering, angular shapes behind it, surrounding it on all sides. Only the blue light of the sky falls upon the house and forestage; the surrounding area shows an angry glow of orange. As more light appears, we see a solid vault of apartment houses around the small, fragile-seeming home. An air of the dream clings to the place, a dream rising out of reality. The kitchen at center seems actual enough, for there is a kitchen table with three chairs, and a refrigerator. But no other fixtures are seen. At the back of the kitchen there is a draped entrance, which leads to the living room . . .…
I look out the window and notice the fog covering the view of my cousin’s backyard. It was the day after a huge tornado of rain and wind had gone through my cousin’s house. The weather outside was chilly from the rain yesterday but still warm enough to be summer. I stood up from the bed, my legs screaming for help…
I dreamt of the rain. The same rain that filled my entire childhood. The same cold rain that showered down on the alleyways that I hid in, sloughing the grime off the walls and into whatever small crevice I would have been hiding in. I dreamt of the same drops of rain that poured like stones, the same stones that were thrown at the many beggars, like myself, living in the winding narrow streets of Aquillum. I found myself walking down the same paths I used to walk and beg in, the same narrow winding passageways I used to evade any furious shopkeepers who would desperately search for the sewer child who stole their wares.…
It is 2005. The wind is screaming, the water is racing down the windows, and I’m screaming my heart out, terrified. Mom and dad are crouched down on the floor covering me up and my grandmother begins racing to find a place for us all to go.…
Last year, I was greeted at camp with a torrent of rain that lasted hours. The rain mixing with the dirt set the whole camp ready to become one gigantic slip ‘n slide. The humidity clung to the air and stuck to my skin, making my hair frizz like I was having a panic attack. The smell after the rain was earthy and fresh, like I was sniffing a soft scoop of dirt from a garden. I wished that it had never stopped raining, because soon the sun burst through the clouds, showering us in…
When I got home the soft grass tickled my sore, dirty feet. I remember the porch of my house. I walked in, and didn’t remember any of it. I walked down a long thin hallway, walked into my blue and white room, it was still the same. My socks were in a pile, my bed was still unmade, and there was a pile of clean clothes that I forgot to put away before I left. It was good to be…
We walked up the stairs and I felt a chill go through my bones, I started to count the blue fuzzy steps that were stained brown with coffee stains. You could see the dull boring white paint with flakes that pointed out the chipping and revealed the age of the building. The smell of lemon and lavender hit me like a wave in the ocean crashing onto the shore.We eventually reached the top of the stairs and approached the purple door with a white flakey knob, and as she turned it you could hear it squeak and then finally stop as she revealed a perfectly polished pink room. A carpet was laid on the ground it was so orange and soft that I kept myself seated on the ground admiring the carpet as I briskly, yet lightly, brushed my fingertips across it. All of a sudden my thought were interrupted by the sound of a snip. It took me a while to register what was going on, but as soon as I saw the long brown curl on the delicate carpet I felt myself cringe. I continued to sit there as lifeless as my fallen hair on that beautiful carpet. It felt like torture sitting there with all my words stuck in my throat; it was as if I never even had…
Wind rushed passed, slamming the front door shut behind me. The harsh gust caused the wind chimes hanging from my front porch to become entangled in an unpleasant sounding mess. Rain shot down from the dark sky, like small volts of electricity, stinging my face with each droplet. My neighbors, decked in rain coats and rubber boots, forced my sister and I along the sidewalk. Tornado sirens were screaming in the distance for what had seemed like hours. I had known they were far off, but they felt so close; screeching as if for one last plea of attention or a warning to find safety. I shoved my palms over my ears, attempting to block out the desperate cries they loudly emitted.Being unsuccessful, I slid my hands over my face, hoping to shield it from the surges showering me. Chilled rain drops slipped through my fingers, lightly brushing my cheeks and nose, sending goose bumps down my spine. As I pushed against the wind, I hadn't been paying attention to where I was walking and stepped into a large puddle. My socks became soaked through my cheap tennis shoes, much to my discomfort. It was cold, wet, dark and confusing as I continued the normally short journey down the street. Having a deathly fear of tornados and storms wasn't helping the situation and I quickly became more and more terrified as unfamiliar feels and loud noises took over my senses. I grabbed the corner of my coat and wrapped it around me, hoping to pin it in place. The harsh winds tugging at it simultaneously, hoping to release my grip. I locked my arms across my chest keeping the garment in place as I continued treading down the unpainted sidewalk. A strong hand grabbed my shoulder, I'm assuming with the intention of balancing me as I unstately wobbled forward. My hair, like heated water from the tap was plastered against my neck, and the hair that wasn't whipped across the wind. The air had been damp and warm, from a light shower that had just fallen over, and combined with the pressure against my…
The window has blue curtains with a white pull down shade. The blue is navy like while the blue for the room itself is sky blue. As we move along the window wall we stop and turn left again. The wall has the bed frame on it. The bed itself is a queen bed, brown circle headboard with white, purple, and off grey blanket covering the bed. There is a Pooh bear stuffed animal on the bed. As the wall continues there is a brown chester drawer with five openings to it. On top of the chester drawer is a jewelry box, lamp and a lotus box. The chester drawer is about the height of someone who is four foot and ten inches. As the wall continues we turn left again. There is the closet, with white doors that open up. The door has a stand for hats which is hanging. The closet is a walk in with white walls, dresses on the left and shirts, pants, sweatshirts on the racks on the right, while some are on the floor. Next to the closet is a small blue wall as long as your fingertip to the other finger tip. That wall is completely empty. After that wall, we are right back to the…
I think I'd want someone who was really intelligent and was after the meaning of life. Someone who'd had insights that I hadn't who could really bounce ideas back at me in a conversation. Someone who wasn't afraid to break with the norm and who didn't care if he was a 'nerd'. Someone with a subtle wit that most people would need to think to laugh at, but who could appreciate and indulge in obvious humor and silliness. Someone whose musical tastes were all across the board, and who didn't really care whether his tastes were considered overly popular or even overly eclectic. Someone who was conscious enough of his own mind to catch himself doing something out of insecurity or the need to please, or arguing for his own idea without heed to holes that had been cut in it. Who, in that situation had finally learned to throw aside an injured ego to embrace objectivity? And of course, as I knew I would, I am describing a clone of myself.…
Light filters into the room from the multiple windows surrounding it. The windows are spotless with no trace of dust, heavily veiled with black meshed curtains. Tinting the walls is the colors of sea mist greens while the witched capped ceiling is of creamy white. In the middle of the room stands a low bed. Inviting the world to many naps and relaxing filled nights.…
I can’t say how much time passed, but when I awoke I was cold, wet, and unable to see. Opening my eyes did little to improve my vision, and it was several seconds before I understood where I was and why I was naked. A faint beam of moonlight filtering through my window allowed my to drip my way over to the door and grope the wall for the switch I knew would shed some light on the situation. I flipped it and turned to my sink. I screamed. I recovered my composure and stuck my tongue out at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, annoyed at it for startling me. Satisfied, I again regarded my sink.…
Dark and cold, those were the two words that described the room. The only illumination was from the faint moon, a tempting ghost for a young and anxious soul. The room, though, held two souls, was accompanied by the lingering smell of pepperoni from a pizza. One of the souls was resting on the wood floor of the room and the panels creaked beneath his body as he shifted in his dreams. Although, creaking of the flooring was not the only thing to be heard in the room. What came from the window was the hustle and bustle of cars, and the soothing chirps of the crickets two stories down. The room was number thirty-five, a room number to a three story apartment building with a balcony. The balcony overlooked the Big Apple, New York City, the wind sealed out by glass sliding doors from the entrance of the balcony. White glossy walls invited a hand to investigate, but to the touch, the wall had a rough texture that could scrape and cut at your skin. The rest of room thirty-five was empty. There were only two beds, a Japanese style futon, and a couch pull out; along with a few dressers, an entertainment stand, coffee table, dining table, and night stands. Everything was wooden, with red, navy blue, gold, or black accents.…
My body shivered. I started to sweat and bite my nails. I hugged my pillow as close to my body as the water pounded furiously outside. The wind made weird, frightening noises outside while the house inside creaked. I payed close attention to all these noises as I unblinkingly watched the T.V. monitor.…